


Not Only For Children

by leashy_bebes



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 20:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the shawarma, there's the debrief, and Clint has a couple thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Only For Children

It's pushing midnight by the time Clint finds Natasha alone. Debriefing had taken up even more time than usual, particularly for him. The others had left in ones and twos, and Clint had been kept behind to go over and over the details of his time spent as Loki's right hand man. Like he doesn't feel shitty enough about it already, right?

Finally done, he wanders through the corridors at base, trying to quiet his brain. As part of the debrief he'd watched a lot of the footage from the helicarrier. There's a lot that's churning over in his mind. He's trying real hard not to think too much about Coulson, because Loki is in custody now and no one's gonna let Clint put that arrow through his eye, so there's no more to be done. 

The thought of Natasha running through the helicarrier, pursued by the Hulk, and then dragging herself on to beat Clint back to himself is one that won't be quieted though. Nobody has ever really understood what they are to each other, and Clint couldn't possibly explain how he knows that if he wants to find her, he needs to head down. 

Clint finds his own freedom in high up spaces, in the wind on his face and the world rolling out before him, and the knowledge that he's somewhere inaccessible to normal people. Natasha finds it in small, dark places where she can monitor every entrance and exit, where she can give herself every advantage she needs.

There's a basement gym they use sometimes, when the other agents are bugging them. It's old and beat up and no one else wants it. Those are the kind of places Clint has always felt most at home, and he heads there without having to think about it. Natasha's sitting on the highest beam cleaning one of her guns, the pieces nearly laid out at her side. There's another sitting on the beam next to her but she doesn't draw, barely seems to glance Clint's way. From her posture, she knows it's him, though.

Clint's sore pretty much everywhere, but it's nothing to stop him climbing up to Tasha's level. She gives him a smile, the same gentle curve of her lips that greeted him when he first came back to himself. She hands him the other gun and he starts stripping it down. It's not as good as fletching a whole quiver full of arrows, but the movements are familiar enough to narrow the world down to this point, to quiet everything that isn't the two of them, alone and alive.

When she's done, she just sits in easy silence, until he finally slots the magazine back into place. He looks over at her as he sets the gun down between them. She looks so young sometimes that it still shakes him, even though he knows his train crash of a childhood was infinitely better than what she had. Natasha has never been young, not really. 

"Love is for children?"

It's only because he's looking for it that he sees the way her mouth tightens, a split second of irritation that he would even bring it up. They've never talked about this thing between them before, but then Clint's never come so close to such a bad end before. And even though he was sent to kill her all those years ago, he believes this was the first time he really could have.

She doesn't look at him, not quite, but she does turn her face his way, just a little.

"Love is a childish motivation," she says.

Clint picks up the gun again and spins it around his trigger finger in a way that never fails to annoy her. She tries to palm it away from him like he knew she would and he closes his hand around hers, the Glock cool between them. 

"You don't owe me shit, Tasha."

She sighs and says nothing so they stay like that a while, holding hands over a gun. It's weirdly fitting. 

"Let me pay you back anyway," she says.

"You're on," he agrees, and bumps their shoulders together.

 

.end.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted [here](http://leashy-bebes.livejournal.com/335323.html) at mj LJ


End file.
